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Archivio mensile:febbraio 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The transfixion, that sorrow needed. In body and mind.

I am planning to come. Back to Zurich, in the town where you live, where we met so many times for a need, for a deep, important urgencyI remember last year and I write you an email.  I am still ill.  You are my illness. I can’t forget. May be we could.. May be,as last year, there are still some times, for us, to stay. You are with me. I have your mark, forever, in every gesture, every decision, every thought. I can’t spend one single day without remembering your body, your lips. Nothing to do. Meeting you was a violent assault. You’re part of my most intimate memories. I feel the sorrow of your absence on the skin and inside, between the scapula and the heart. We know the dark side of a passion. I have your mark on my wrist. This means so many things.

Francesca Mazzucato, considered the most famous erotic-chic Italian author, explores with courage and a literary intense language the possibility of a narrative about contemporary intimacy , renewing the traditional words of eroticism, surprising, and wrapping the reader offering a story “with no escape”

You can download the english version here  and very soon on Kindle store and on the other store on line.

The italian editions, Trafittura, is having a great success with readers and critics

( Review of the poet, writer a critic Nunzio Festa about Trafittura in italian version)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen poems written by an eighteen year old in love with a woman distant in a language not his own, laced with remnants of the spam that picks up pieces of hard disk redistributing them randomly in who knows how many mailboxes. Here is what are the poems of Nunoe Kei, the pursuit of nonsense to find a meaning, a sense of indecency in remoteness
But what it is the feeling if the protagonist of a novel (which the author works, writing and rewriting, for over two years) finds a publisher and the novel doesn’t find? A little ‘discomfort, but not much. Because the object of love Nunoe, which gives the title to the collection, is also the object of that author. And vice versa. So the fiction stops immediately, and becomes a fake of the fake.

 

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Quindici poesie scritte da una diciottenne innamorata di una donna lontana in una lingua non sua, cucite con scampoli di quella spam che preleva pezzi di hard disk ridistribuendoli a caso in chissà quante caselle di posta. Ecco cosa sono le poesie di Nunoe Kei, l’inseguimento del non sense per trovare un senso, un senso nell’indecenza della lontananza.
Ma cosa si prova se la protagonista di un romanzo (a cui l’autore lavora, scrivendo e riscrivendo, da oltre due anni) trova un editore e il romanzo no? Un po’ di fastidio, ma non più di tanto. Perché l’oggetto dell’amore di Nunoe, che dà il titolo alla raccolta, è anche l’oggetto dell’amore di quell’autore. E viceversa. Così la finzione si ferma subito, e il fake diventa un falso fake.

per scaricare, questa volta si comincia da Amazon, kindle store qui, e a seguire altrove.

Sull’autore.

Attualmente copywriter e direttore creativo, è stato insegnante, pubblicista e sceneggiatore di documentari storici (trasmessi da RAI e canali satellitari italiani e stranieri); ha pubblicato racconti on line (fra cui Sacripante!, Anonima Scrittori, Malicuvata Casa Lettrice) e off line, su antologie (fra cui minimum fax, Freaks Edizioni, Comma 22) e riviste (fra cui Pythagoras, Toilet, Sud). Ama i bonsai.
Mah. Forse si potrebbe ridurre a: “ Copywriter e direttore creativo, ama i bonsai”.

 

Il testo è un pirotecnico, incredibile mash-up poetico. Sperimentale, labirintico, richiede attenzione, dedizione e anche la  voglia di lasciarsi ipnotizzare. Abbadono e lettura. Con musica adatta.  Come questa, giusto un suggerimento

 

 

 

 

the-rx:

Unpublished Significant Early Tennessee Williams Poem Surfaces - The Body Awaits

I am tired. I am tired of speech and action. If you should meet me upon the street and still know me in spite of my present condition I would prefer that you passed me without salutation. Your face is unknown to me now. I do not remember your name. Maybe we drank together once or shared grub in a jungle of flop-house somehwehre [sic] in a different state or different city but that was a long time ago.

“In the heart of me you will find a tiny handful of dust. Take it and blow it out upon the wind. Let the wind have it and it will find its way home.”

One of the masterpieces of Thomas Mann in the original German version, with the addition of images and video links. Editor Paul Hessel. First ebook of  Errant Editions   in German .

Paul Hessel is  starting  a Thomas Mann Project. The project will include various branches, with a a reportage from the places where the great writer lived and the place where it is buried

Download here

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